If boomers did these 7 things today, they’d be called “toxic” by millennials

Ever notice how something that passed for “tough love” in the ’90s lands like sandpaper now?

Norms change. Language shifts.

What once earned a nod can read as control, disrespect, or just being out of touch—especially to younger adults who care a lot about consent, equity, and mental health.

I spend my days translating behavior through a psychological lens (and yes, my old life as a financial analyst still makes me obsessed with patterns).

Across offices, families, and friend groups, I see the same friction points repeat.

If you’re a boomer—or you love one—treat this as an update pack, not a character verdict. Keep the strengths. Retire the moves that don’t work anymore.

Here are seven habits that, done today, commonly get labeled “toxic” by millennials—and simple ways to modernize them. Let’s jump in.

1. “Telling it like it is” when it’s really harshness in disguise

Honesty is a gift; cruelty wrapped as candor isn’t. A lot of us were taught that blunt feedback builds character.

The problem? Unfiltered criticism can shut people down, especially in workplaces where psychological safety actually drives performance.

A better standard I lean on: be clear and be kind. As Brené Brown put it, “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind." Brené Brown

Try this:

• Ask permission before offering feedback: “Are you open to notes right now, or later?”

• Lead with the behavior and the impact, not the person’s character.

• Offer one concrete next step.

Clarity without contempt is still direct—it just isn’t demeaning.

2. Treating other people’s time and attention as endlessly available

Remember when dropping by unannounced or calling during dinner was normal?

Today, boundaries are a key part of respect. Many millennials (and Gen Z) use calendars, statuses, and “Do Not Disturb” as social signals, not snubs.

If we plow through those signals—texting repeatedly, expecting immediate replies, or assuming our urgency is everyone’s urgency—it reads as entitlement.

Therapist and author Prentis Hemphill captures the healthier alternative beautifully: “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.”

Try this:

• Ask, “Is now a good time?” and accept the answer.

• Use scheduling links or offer two–three windows for a chat.

• Normalize delayed responses. If it’s truly urgent, say why—and keep that category rare.

3. Glorifying overwork and dismissing rest as laziness

I know this one from the inside. In my analyst days, I treated 70-hour weeks like a badge of honor.

My younger colleagues didn’t clap—they worried. Chronic busyness signals poor prioritization or broken systems, not strength.

What’s changed is the value system. Many millennials measure success by sustainable contribution, not sacrifice. They’ll give 100%—to a culture that protects people’s energy.

Try this:

• Replace “I pulled an all-nighter” with “Here’s how I scoped the work to hit the deadline.”

• Model recovery: actually take your lunch, your weekends, your vacation.

• Praise outcomes, not martyrdom. “We shipped the feature” beats “We killed ourselves to ship.”

Overwork isn’t leadership; it’s leakage.

4. Using “it was just a joke” to excuse comments that punch down

Humor ages—some of it badly. Jokes about weight, gender, sexual orientation, mental health, or race were once common.

Today they’re read for what they are: boundary tests and power plays. Intent matters, but impact lands first.

If you slip (we all do), skip the defensiveness spiral. Try a fast repair:

• “You’re right—that was off. I’m sorry.”

• “Thanks for flagging it; I’ll do better.”

• Then actually do better.

A practical tip I use: imagine the joke on a 20-foot poster with your name on it. Still funny? If not, don’t say it.

5. Offering “unsolicited wisdom” that steamrolls other people’s agency

Ask yourself: Did they ask for advice—or for empathy? Many of us were trained to fix, mentor, or parent even when no one asked.

To younger adults, that can feel like control. It also misses the moment. Often what people want is to be witnessed first, resourced second.

What helps:

• Start with curiosity: “Do you want ideas or just a listening ear?”

• If you’re bursting with experience, package it as an option: “If it helps, here’s what worked for me once—take it or leave it.”

• Celebrate competence: “You’ve got good instincts here.”

Advice given without consent often lands like judgment. Ask, then serve.

6. Treating emotional stoicism as maturity

“Suck it up.” “Tough it out.” Many of us heard those lines constantly—and survived by using them.

But much of today’s communication culture is built on emotional literacy.

Naming what’s happening inside you is not indulgent; it’s how conflict gets de-escalated, needs get met, and relationships stay intact.

If you’re not used to that, start small:

• Replace “I’m fine” with one accurate feeling word.

• Share the need beneath it: “I’m overwhelmed and need 20 minutes to regroup.”

• When someone else shares a feeling, respond with validation before problem-solving: “That makes sense.”

You’ll gain credibility, not lose it. Emotional fluency is a leadership skill now, not a liability.

7. Gatekeeping influence with “pay your dues” energy

Have you ever caught yourself thinking, I did it the hard way, so you should too?

That impulse is human—and it’s also a fast track to being seen as a blocker. Younger colleagues expect voice based on the value of ideas, not just tenure.

They’re right. Innovation rarely asks how old you are.

The reframe: preserve what’s timeless (ethics, accountability, craft) and loosen your grip on what’s merely traditional (meeting times, dress codes, document formats, where the best ideas come from).

As James Baldwin wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

So face it: some of what we protected was inertia. Trade gatekeeping for guardianship—protect the principles, open the pathways.

How to shift without losing yourself

If a few of these stung, you’re in good company. Most of us learned what we learned because it worked in an earlier context—or because it kept us safe. The goal isn’t to self-cancel; it’s to update.

A few experiments I’ve used with clients and in my own life:

• Ask before assuming. “How do you like to receive feedback?” “What’s your preferred response time on Slack?” These micro-questions reduce friction dramatically.

• Swap certainty for curiosity. Try the five-word bridge: “Tell me more about…” Then listen the whole way through. You’ll be surprised how quickly defensiveness drains when people feel heard.

• Separate clarity from meanness. You can be unmistakably direct without shaming. If you’re about to give tough feedback, borrow Brown’s line to set the tone: “I want to be clear because I care about you and the work.” Then be specific. (If you need a reminder, re-read the excerpt where she coins it: “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind.”)

• Practice consent in conversation. Before sharing a story that could land heavily, ask, “Is now an okay time for something tough?” Consent isn’t just for intimacy; it’s for communication.

• Use boundaries as relationship tech, not punishments. Hemphill’s framing—loving you and me at the same time—keeps connection at the center. If you’re setting a limit, add the care: “I can’t host this weekend, and I’m cheering for your event. Can I help by sharing it?"

• Repair quickly. If you misstep, don’t litigate intent. Own impact, apologize, learn, and move. You’ll build more trust with a fast repair than with a perfect record.

• Keep what’s gold. Many “boomer” strengths are deeply needed: loyalty, follow-through, resourcefulness. Those aren’t toxic; they’re timeless. Aim them at cultures that prize dignity and consent, and you’ll be the steady hand people count on.

A gentle closing thought

Generational friction isn’t evidence we’re doomed. It’s proof we’re in motion.

The behaviors I’ve named were adaptive in other seasons; they just don’t translate 1:1 now.

And that’s okay. Growth often looks like this: loosening our grip on what made us, so we can be more useful to the moment we’re in.

When I’m tempted to cling to the old script, I remind myself that curiosity is cheaper than conflict and—let’s be real—way more fun. What’s one small update you can test this week?

If you try it, notice how people respond. Notice how you feel. That data is the only kind that matters.